The Games They Play
by ArwendeImladris
Summary: fem!John. Jane took a full 1 hour and 50 minutes to get ready: double the preparation time of any previous date. Sherlock does not like what this implies about her investment in this man.


Title: The Games They Play  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Pairing: fem!John/her date, fem!John/Sherlock (UST)  
>Wordcount: ~800<br>Warnings: genderswap  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, and I do not make any money from this fanwork.<br>Summary: Jane took a full 1 hour and 50 minutes to get ready: double the preparation time of any previous date. Sherlock does not like what this implies about her investment in this man.

Sherlock blinks, slowly.

Sherlock blinks again.

Sherlock squints.

"Stop staring - it's rude," Jane scolds him gently.

"What are you wearing?" he asks curiously.

Jane looks down at herself.

"A dress?" she replies dryly. "I know I'm usually in jeans and a jumper, but really Sherlock - it's not that unusual."

Sherlock thinks her slinky black dress is quite unusual enough. He doesn't like what it implies about her 'date' - or her investment in her date.

"You've lost 12 pounds in the last 5 weeks. You are wearing a tight, short black dress, that is cut to best reveal your bust. It also means that you are not wearing a brassier this evening. You curled your hair and applied product. Your lipstick is bright red, but the rest of your make-up is subtle. You have been getting ready for 1 hour and 50 minutes. This is more effort than you have put into with any of your previous dates. You want to be seen as daring, but not too daring. Your shoes..." Sherlock trails off, examining them. They are heels - high, at least 4 inches. They make her legs look thinner and longer, and her already small feet look _tiny_. They cannot be comfortable, and they are certainly not practical for running and/or jumping.

"They're stilettos, Sherlock," she sighs at him, rolling her eyes. Jane does have almost unlimited patience with his observations.

"A stiletto is a dagger," he replies. "Ah - which the heel is modelled to look like."

The heel is metal, shiny, painted a bright red. It contrasts with the matte black material of the rest of the heel.

"Yes. Before you say it - I know they're not practical. But they look nice, and they make me feel nice. Also, they can double as a weapon if necessary," Jane tells him.

Sherlock gets down on his knees to examine them more closely. Yes, with enough force, these could definitely puncture human flesh. He wonders if Jane would let him...

"No, no, and absolutely no," she says. "I recognize that look. That: 'Oh Jane, please let me experiment on you or your belongings look'. These are my favorite shoes, and expensive. If you want, I'll buy you a pair for Christmas - it's coming up, after all, and who knows what else you want. Don't touch these. I will know, Sherlock - and I won't be pleased."

He looks up at her from where he is kneeling. Really, that dress is scandalously short. Her bust also looks much larger from this position.

"Oh!" Mrs. Hudson says from behind him. "Dearies, you really should close your door if you're going to play such games."

She casually backs away and closes the door for them.

Jane looks down at him, then bursts into giggles. As always, he can't help but join her laughter.

"Seriously, Sherlock - get up before my date gets here and sees you like that. He'll think I'm into kinky sex games - or worse, he'll want you to join us," she tells him, laughter still in her voice as she reaches down to pull him to his feet.

Sherlock looks down at her. She is still much shorter than him, of course - but the difference is noticeable.

"Oh, look - even with these heels I'll get a crick in my neck from trying to look up at you, tall bugger that you are," Jane says, stepping around him to pick up a small black clutch. "I'll be back later."

"What's his name?" Sherlock asks.

"You never remember," she teases him.

Sherlock deletes their names after he runs the background check, but he needs to know them in the first place - at least long enough to give them to Mycroft and Lestrade.

"What's his name?" Sherlock asks again. "You know I'll just follow you and swipe his wallet if you don't tell me."

Jane shakes her head at him and heads towards the door.

"Greg," she tells him. "His name is Greg."

"Last name?" he questions. What ever would he do with just a first name?

She doesn't answer, just goes onto the street and climbs into a cab. There's already a man in the back - obviously there to pick her up. Between the distance and the tinted windows, it is difficult to make out any features. His hair is greying, though, so an older man. Before Sherlock can grab his coat and rush down to follow them, his mobile beeps.

It's a text from Jane.

_His last name is Lestrade. You won't even have to do a background check this time. I'm sure Mycroft already has one prepared._

Well then.

Threesome it is.


End file.
